


all the stars

by milkovichh



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Help, M/M, based on a prompt, cute shit, idk what this is, mature for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkovichh/pseuds/milkovichh
Summary: Sometimes Mickey wakes up at night and reflects on how far they’ve come.





	all the stars

Summer in Chicago could go both ways, sometimes. On one hand, it was nice to experience some kind of warmth in the windy city, since everyone froze their asses off every year when winter came. On the other, less likeable, hand: summer meant blasting heatwaves in the middle of the night that no matter how many layers were stripped, would not leave. It crept through the silent Milkovich household, heating up every room and unaffecting seemingly everyone but Mickey.

  Tonight was one of those nights where the moon shone full and high in the inky sky, few clouds drifting over it though providing little help against the heat. Mickey’s eyes were slow to adjust to the dark, blinking at the minimal light allowed into the room, taking in his surroundings. Sometimes, he still worried that Terry would be home, despite the impossibleness of that, and ready to beat the shit out of him. Though, recently, Mickey had been waking calmly, smoothly and to Ian Gallagher beside him, peaceful. It was almost surreal.

  After his brain had emerged from the sleepy state it was in, Mickey realised just how hot it was. His breath was coming out in pants, sweat beading on his forehead and hands becoming clammy while his sleeveless tee stuck to his chest and torso. Ian was snoring behind him, unfazed by the scorching heat, one arm over Mickey and fingers tangled within tattooed ones. His front was pressed closely to Mickey's back, and said boy huffed out a sigh, releasing his hand and pulling away from the almost-unbearable warmth to push up and out of bed. Rubbing a hand over his eye, he steadied on his feet and paced to the window to open it and let in some colder air — well, not really, since Mickey was sure he was just letting more warm air in. Either way, he found the silence of the house odd and a rarity he wasn’t quite so comfortable with.

  Now that he thought on it, as he was crawling back into bed and letting thin sheet scrunch at the foot of it, he had been doing a lot he wasn’t quite comfortable with lately.

  With another sigh, he was rolling over and letting his eyes fall onto Ian, who had rolled onto his back and was lightly snoring. This had been happening a lot recently; Mickey waking up at fuck-knows what time to piss or open a window, whatever, and found himself unable to fall back asleep instantly like he used to. He’d just lay and look over at the redhead, thoughtful. This was the only time he truly could be thoughtful, with the lack of baby cries or a houseful of Russian whores yelling at him, without Ian bouncing off the fucking walls or teasing him for becoming a sap as he fondly overlooked the Gallagher breathing softly, white moonlight gentle on his pale skin, scattered with brown and orange freckles.

   Looking at Ian made Mickey think on all they had done to get here.

  He had been through hell for Ian, to keep him sane and grounded and with him. Looking over those constellations of freckles, Mickey remembered the scrawny gay kid at the store that he stole from regularly. It seemed so distant — running after the kid who Mandy was pissed at, prepared to beat the shit out of him for ever fucking with a Milkovich, and then banging that same kid and making it seem like no big deal. Admitting so aloud was out of the question — fuck, he hardly admitted it to himself in his own head — but Mickey knew he was stupid when they were younger. Pushing Ian away emotionally but drawing him back in because he knew the redhead was like a puppy: naïve, easy to wrap around his finger and still have the kid making heart-eyes at him. 

  Now, as he looked at the taller, more-built and mature boy, he wondered how he managed to hold up so many walls. Had he known back then that he’d end up running after Ian like a little bitch, caring for him and fucking _spooning_ him, he probably would have spat on himself.

  The rush of a car drove by. The sound of a curse flying in the air as someone swore aimlessly at the speeding driver. Mickey was paying no mind, didn’t give two fucks what was going on beyond their bedroom right now. He should feel like a real creep, or else really fucking gay, about watching Ian sleep like this. Sat up a little higher beside him, eyes falling to the rise and fall of his chest and his defined jawline, soft cheeks, closed eyes and red hair. It was weird, he still thought, and yet he knew Ian would be a sucker for that — would say he was a sap. They really had progressed; Mickey no longer associated the fact that he was gay and in love with Ian Gallagher with being a pussy and Ian didn’t try to push him the way he used to. 

  Like everyone else in the Southside, they were dysfunctional. Ian used to want so much so quickly, he wanted everything Mickey wished he could give but couldn’t. He wanted to be together, as boyfriends, and once Mickey had accepted that, he instantaneously wanted Mickey to come out or else they were done. It was difficult, so god damn difficult, but Mickey had done it. Now that he was staring at Ian, silence filling the room once more, he realised he did that because losing Ian was something he wasn’t sure he could do. That ginger asshole was the only thing that kept him going during juvie, having to marry Svetlana, having the kid, dealing with the business, with his father.

  Losing Ian was something he could not imagine anymore. He let one of his hands fall to the boy’s hair, running his fingers through it and letting the strands fall through the gaps. Gently, as to not wake him, Mickey was laying back down propped up on one arm and counting the freckles that dotted his boyfriend’s skin. Across his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw and even on his neck and chest. He never really got to look at Ian like this; peaceful and cool and uninterrupted. This was when he realised how truly beautiful Ian was. And he had no doubt in his mind that he had made the right choices to be with him, gone through the shit that they had, and done everything to make sure he was still Ian after all this time. 

  “Mickey?” Green eyes were blinking slowly open and trying to focus on the somewhat startled boy. He hadn’t meant to wake him, simply count the freckles on his face until he slipped back into unconsciousness. “Why’re you awake?”

  “Hot as balls,” was the hushed yet delayed response, “couldn’t sleep. ’Specially with your lanky ass acting as a second fucking blanket.”

  A smile traced across Ian’s lips and Mickey would forever deny how happy it made him to see he could draw such a simple, but ever so gorgeous, action from the younger. Would deny the way that his heart pounded as Ian chuckled and shifted so that the older could curl into his chest, which he did.

  “Y’know, I love you.” It was only a stupid quick thought that slipped into Mickey’s brain as he felt himself falling asleep on Ian’s chest. After thinking on everything they had done, how could he not conclude with the fact that he loved him?

  “Yeah. I know, Mick.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first work and its basically just endless rambling soz


End file.
